


Two

by edriss



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 10:03:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edriss/pseuds/edriss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes I feel like I am two people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for ~joking on livejournal for the Animorphs Gift Exchange, using the prompt "dual."

Sometimes I feel like I am two people -- Marco Simmons, the bored 9th grader who is smart but lazy and obviously doesn't get enough sleep because he's always dozing off in class. And Marco the Animorph, who knows what it's like to have his arm blown off. Sometimes, the split between these two is really obvious. Like it's definitely Marco Simmons who gets grabbed on the way out of English class.

"Wait a minute, Marco, I want to speak with you," Mrs. Brown calls to me. I take a seat across from her desk and try my best not to look too bored or annoyed by the delay. Almost all my teachers have been talking to me about not doing my homework and not paying attention for the last two years. "Are things okay with you?" she asks with her best concerned teacher voice.

"Things are great!" I tell her enthusiastically.

"Anything going on with your friends? What about your Dad? How is he doing?"

"Listen Mrs. Brown," I begin, not really wanting to waste part of my day trying to convince her my life is great. "I appreciate your concern but if I have any personal problems I don't think I'd want to share them with you. As it happens, nothing's going on that I can't handle and I really have to get to Biology because I think I'm failing. Thanks." I get up and leave Mrs. Brown wide-eyed in my dust.

Sometimes the distinction isn't so clear. It's hard to remember what my life was like before all this started. So, I _think_ it's Marco Simmons who wakes up early on a rare free Saturday morning to make breakfast for my dad. Marco the Animorph is never home on Saturday so it must be the "regular" me, the old me, who decides to scramble up some eggs and microwave some bacon before my dad even rubs the sleep from his eyes. I place a pre-sliced, plasticy piece of American cheese on top and watch as he smiles brightly at me.

"Trying to earn some good son points for something?" he asks with a laugh. That's something my mom would say a lot -- good son points and good husband points that could be cashed in later for a favor. Maybe we would go to McDonald's for lunch if I earned enough good son points. Dad was always earning good husband points with foot and back rubs after dinner. These days, between school and everything, I don't earn many. But I like doing nice things for my dad when I get a chance because I always think there might be a time when I no longer have that chance. That's what happened with Mom. Before I even knew what really happened to her, I mean. Now it's different. Now I let myself think there might be a future where I make breakfast for _both_ my parents.

But that's Marco the Animorph thinking it. That's Marco the batshit insane. That's Marco who once punched an alien in the head so hard, its neck broke. And when I'm just chilling with my dad, I don't want to be that guy. Especially since I know in a couple hours I'll _have_ to be, since our mission starts later this afternoon.

My dad may think it's the rowdy teenager who stole a bottle of vodka from his liquor cabinet after he went to bed that night, but it's the Animorph, who almost bled out from a hole in his chest, that takes it to the woods to get drunk.

"Ax-man!" I yell, holding up the bottle and a carton of orange juice I brought as a mixer. Both he and Tobias turn sharply to look at me, like I'm interrupting some weirdo bonding time. Even though Tobias always has the same expression, being a hawk and all, I still feel like his glare is disapproving as I approach. "Break out some cups, guys." 

<What is it, Marco?> Ax asks as he grabbed a couple of mugs off the cheap IKEA shelf we put together. 

"Some vodka I borrowed from my dad. You'll like it," I promise, knowing Ax likes everything. Without a word to me, Tobias takes off from the back of the sofa where he was perched as I start pouring.

<Tobias says I shouldn't have any,> Ax admits, one stalk eye pointed in the direction of bird-boy's flight, even as he begins his transformation to human.

"He's just a party-pooper." I know Tobias has some history with alcohol but I didn't think of that before I came out here. Hell, I have my own messed up family history -- Bird-boy shouldn't be so uptight all the time. Who cares what he thinks, anyway? I need to let off some steam with my friends and I'm not gonna let him stop me. Truth is, I came out to the woods because I thought these two would be more understanding than Jake. He'd probably just lecture me about stealing and maturity and that's not what this is about.

<You know on TV they consume alcohol to have a party or because they are sad,> Ax informs me. He pauses while his face splits open to form a mouth. "I do not think we are having a party."

"Ever observant," I mutter and hand him a full mug. I think I messed up the ratio of vodka to orange juice because it's really strong. I feel it burning down my throat and into my chest. It's really gross and I don't taste the juice at all. Ax is smiling at me and I think he actually does like it.

"What a strange sensation, _sation_ ," he says, smacking his lips together. He takes another swallow and grimaces. I quickly down half my cup. Isn't this stuff supposed to make you feel good? Or at least feel _something_? I only have the bad aftertaste on my tongue.

"Are you sad then?" Ax asks. He still doesn't get the concept of filtering his thoughts. There are just somethings you should keep to yourself -- maybe it's not like that for Andalites. Maybe they just say whatever comes to mind because they speak with their minds and not with their mouths. Because they don't have any mouths. Okay, maybe this stuff is starting to get to me because suddenly my cup is empty and my brain is fuzzy. Ax tilts his head to look at me in a really unnerving way.

"Hey, stop it, Ax-man. Just relax."

"Marco my head feels funny. Fun- _nee_. FUN-neeeee."

"It's the booze man, that's what it's for." I top off both our mugs. Mine is white with a smiley face on it. Ax's says Santa Barbara across a beach scene. Suddenly, this is hilarious to me. Ax is drinking out of a souvenir mug. I wonder if they have souvenirs on the Andalite Homeworld. Maybe we should start a collection of mugs for him. "I almost died today," I tell him suddenly because the thought just popped into my head.

"That's not true," he argues and I think he's about to go into a speech about how easy it is to demorph and then you won't be bleeding to death so I cut him off.

"I killed someone today." 

For that he has no response and I feel sick. Truth is, we kill a _lot_ of Taxxons and even Hork-Bajir and definitely Yeerks. But I think even Ax knows that when I say I killed someone I mean a Human-Controller. And I'm not really sure what's worse -- that I killed or a human or I find killing aliens so easy. Even when I know they can't control their own bodies. Even when I know they are screaming for help and crying and -- "I feel really awful," I tell Ax and, for once in his life, he doesn't say anything. 

So we both just sit there drinking until the bottle is empty and my stomach burns. Ax demorphs and turns on the television. As I see the sun rising over the trees on horizon -- pink and orange bleeding into the dark sky -- I finally find the sleep I was desperately looking for.


End file.
